


somebody to you

by cerealmilk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerealmilk/pseuds/cerealmilk
Summary: Hana doesn't like the idea of soulmates. She doesn't like the idea of a certain fate, of an unavoidable outcome. She appreciates unpredictability, but certainty? Certainty is terrifying. Early on, she decides to avoid meeting her soulmate, as long as she possibly can. So, she decides to join the army.To be fair, she expects to die. To take the long road down to hell. She doesn't expect to meet her soulmate along the way.





	1. and i can feel it in my bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an entirely self-indulgent two shot I wrote instead of updating Summer Nights (shame on you, Ace). But honestly??? It's also kind of a vent write. These past few weeks have been hairy for me, and I wasn't really feeling Summer Nights.
> 
> Hence, Somebody to You's creation.
> 
> Okay this first chapter is pretty angsty (it really shouldn't be surprising anymore) but second chapter is saccharine.
> 
> Enjoy.

The word 'soulmate' has always haunted Hana for as long as she can remember. There is no science to the words that appeared on her arm when she turned five, no logical explanation for the tried and true theory of kindred spirits that have since become the primary focus of the world. Soulmates are perfect— soulmates work like that. At least, from what Hana has heard.

Of course, she has also done her research on the matter, but it is biased research and therefore unusable in any argument she can construct.

Soulmates are supposed to be the peanut butter to one's jelly, the icing on the cake. It's a perfect system. Once you find your soulmate, supposedly, that's who the universe has decided is the ultimate best fit for your personality.

Hana knows there are exceptions. There are some who never get a soulmate mark, those who never find their soulmate, and instead seek brief pleasures in others who share the same fate.

Hana knows there are exceptions, like the markless and the lost. Unfortunately, she is not one such exception. Her sentence is stained in black ink on her right forearm, in neat lettering across the wrist— the first words her soulmate will say to her, if all goes according to the universe's plan.

_"You dropped this."_

It is a rather simple phrase. It shouldn't cause Hana as much panic as it does every time she looks at it, in the mirror or peeking under her sleeve. She knows the day is coming where she will meet them face to face, where she will hear that damned phrase, and something about the unanimous certainty of it all is terrifying.

Soulmates are supposed to have a deep emotional and physical connection as soon as the words first spoken are said and done. She's read that sometimes, one will get flashes of what the other feels, of where the other is.

Personally, Hana doesn't want some stranger crawling around in her head. Soulmates are terrifying in their certainty, and she's too young to already have her life planned out for her.

Therefore, she decides young that she will postpone the day she meets her soulmate as long as she can. After all, she's only in high school, juggling a thousand and one things plus the extracurricular, and managing a relationship with some supposed 'perfect fit' is _not_ what she needs.

So, for the time being, she pulls back. She's careful not to let anything slip as she roams the halls and she tries not to interact with the other students because she knows that, someday, it will be one of them. It has to be, and the thought is not at all reassuring.

 

 

Hana doesn't understand soulmates. She has friends who have already met their partners, and she can see why the theory is called both tried _and_ true, but she's a logical person at heart. The whole 'connected souls' shebang doesn't cut it for her. It seems too... fictional. Despite the stories of meet-ups and the black tattoos she's seen formulate on all shades of skin, she cannot convince herself to believe in it. Logistics and cynicism are all she knows.

Then again, she doesn't have the best influences on that opinion. Her parents aren't soulmates and she was born on accident. She's never seen what soulmates look like in full bloom. She hasn't been raised to have faith in her tattoo.

She retracts to keep herself safe. Soulmates are a leap of blind faith, and she's not convinced that she won't fall if she jumps.

Not even Lena and Emily are enough to sway her from this belief, even though she was there to see them fumble over their first words to each other (a rather endearing scene, if Hana were honest).

Not even her old history teacher's saccharine stories of how he met his wife are enough. Nor are the words curled three times around Aleksandra's wrist in Mandarin, an endless string of, _"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I— sorry, I'm sorry—"_

Her friend hasn't met her soulmate yet, but she has hope. Hana doesn't, and buries her mark in sweat bands and rubber bracelets out of spite. She's aim to prove it wrong.

 

 

Hana is in her junior year of high school. She works hard for all A's because her parents won't accept anything less, plays volleyball for varsity after school, and works part time at a video game shop on the weekends. She trudges through the days, crawls through long hours of dysphoria and bursts of paralyzing anxiety, and makes sure not to drop anything, lest the universe prove itself right against her.

She won't admit it, but she's scared. She's seen both the good and the bad of soulmates, and she doesn't know what will come when she finds hers.

Lena and Emily try to console her— they've always had a hard time giving up on her. They try to convince her that having a soulmate is really a wonderful thing. Sometimes, Hana's almost inclined to believe them, but then she thinks back to her parents and how she came into existence, and she has to disagree.

 

 

At the end of her junior year, Hana enlists in the army. Her parents are fine with it, if not a little less concerned than they should be, but Lena and Emily are horrified. What if she dies? What if she never comes back? What about finding her soulmate?

But Hana's made her decision. She's had this planned out for years. Her and Aleksandra had decided enlist in the army together when they met all those years ago.

She packs up what little she needs to bring. Her phone, some clothes, a pair of running shoes, her DS, and other trinkets she finds of significant value. It's not much. She can fit it all into a single rucksack.

Her flight leaves at the end of the week. She's being sent to a camp in Egypt to train, the letter the recruiter sent her back said. The days until then are long and filled with Lena, Emily, and Aleksandra, friends together until the end. They drink, they laugh, they party, and they hold each other close. After all, Hana and Aleks may not come back alive.

The guilt threatens to consume her. What if she dies? She'll die, and her soulmate will never find her, left alone to wonder what happened.

She convinces herself not to think too hard on it. After all, she's not all that remarkable. There are others that could satisfy her soulmate more than she ever could, she's sure.

It becomes her mantra— there will be _someone better._

 

 

Hana and Aleks leave Saturday, at 11:00 that night. They drive Aleksandra's old pickup to the airport, and don't talk about the fact that they're both crying the whole ride over. It's hard, joining the army in a world knitted together by red strings, knowing that if you make one wrong move in war, then you aren't the only one who dies.

The airport is big, and in Hana's slightly oversized military uniform, it's cold. There's a surprising amount of people crowding the colossal hallways despite the time of night, and she tries to stick close to Aleks' side in the clusters of people waiting at every station. Their flight is at station A3, unfortunately all the way on the other side of the building, and it's leaving for Cairo in fifteen minutes.

They hurry past station A5. Hana stumbles into a businessman in line to board his plane, shoots him a scowl, and pushes onwards, hurrying to keep up with Aleks' brisk pace. _Curse her longer legs,_ she mutters under her breath as she adjusts the bag over her shoulder.

She feels a gentle tap on her shoulder as she passes by A4, and turns quickly, half expecting it to be the businessman that had gotten in her way. Instead, she's met with a pretty face, dark skin, and brilliant amber eyes with a pale blue scarf hanging around an elegant neck.

The stranger smiles lightly, holding out Hana's phone.

"You dropped this," the stranger says, and Hana's mark flares abruptly with the heat of a thousand suns.

Her heart sinks like a stone. Around her, the world seems to freeze.

This can't be happening, not now, not like this. She'd enlisted to escape the possibility of her ever finding her soulmate— this must be the universe's personal 'fuck you' to her efforts, a giant middle finger to the careful trepidation she's maintained over the years.

Her hands shake when she takes back the phone. The stranger's hands are warm— the contact feels electric, and Hana is scared and she can't do this, not now, because she's a soldier now and she can't fight knowing she has something to lose.

Hana finds her resolve after a few lost heartbeats of gaping. She steels herself, stows away her thoughts, and squares her shoulders. She wipes the fear from her face, offering the stranger (her _soulmate,_ her brain unhelpfully supplies) a tight-lipped smile and a nod of thanks.

And she walks away. Her mark feels like it will burn her from the inside out. But, realistically, what else is there to do?

She's not so cruel as to meet her soulmate in a cold airport in the middle of the night. She's not so cruel as to tell her soulmate that she's sorry, she's off to fight in a war and she may never come back once she's gone.

She walks away because she has to, but she feels the stranger's eyes on the back of her head all the way until she reaches A3, a quiet curiosity conveyed through observance, but Hana doesn't look back. Heaven knows what will happen if she does.

 

 

On the plane, Aleks looks at her, a large hand tight on her shoulder, concern evident in her chartreuse gaze.

"That was her," Hana whispers as the plane lifts off of the ground, the engines roaring underfoot. Her ears are ringing— it might be the jet's pressurization system.

Aleks stares. "What did you do?"

Hana shrugs, and she's tired and sad and _God,_ she hadn't realized how lonely she was until her soulmate slipped between her fingers— a taste of the unattainable, a glimpse of the ambrosia life her soulmate could have offered her.

"I said nothing," she admits, quiet because it's all she can manage. "I said nothing, and I walked away— Aleks, we might not come back. I couldn't do that to them."

Hugging in a plane is awkward, but they manage. Aleks doesn't judge her for her decision. In fact, she doesn't say anything, and Hana prays that whoever turns out to be the Russian's soulmate is sweet and kind and good because the pink-haired woman deserves nothing less.

 

 

Cairo is all blazing heat and golden sand. The skyscrapers loom overhead, cars and people crowding the busy streets. The city is loud, the airport somehow louder.

Captain Amari is waiting to greet them when they step off of the plane. The Captain's hair is dark, her eyes kind, and she bears a tattoo beneath her right eye. She wears her soulmate mark with pride of her rolled up sleeves say anything— _"It isn't even a_ good _pick up line."_ Hana absentmindedly wonders what situation led to it, but it isn't any of her business, so she holds her tongue.

The training camp is full of young cadets, hearts ripe with ambition, mouths filled with promises of coming back alive, but all Hana can think about is the null ache of her right wrist. Unrequited love— the ache will linger until she finds that mystery stranger and says what she needs to say, whatever those words may be.

It's a pain she can live with, she supposes. There will be someone better.

 

 

At night, the cadets of her tent all huddle together and talk of the soulmates they have or haven't found. There are ten of them altogether.

There are the twins: Hakim, who speaks of his boyfriend with nothing but fondness in his tone, and Saifullah, with his endless tales of his girlfriend he met on a vacation to Ankara. Communicating is difficult, as they speak entirely different languages, but they try for each other's sakes, he says.

There is Ikram, whose tattoo apparently says nothing but "the beans!" There's Lily, who hasn't found her soulmate yet and she's almost as skeptical as Hana about the whole ordeal.

There's Danny, a joke always ready on his lips and a spark of mischief in his honey-brown eyes. There's Ren, who first met their soulmate through a pen-pal program in kindergarten, which has only grown easier to manage over the years despite the lack of direct contact.

There's Werner, who has no mark but is eager to listen, his blue eyes bright with interest. There is also Rita, with her callused hands and her nightly calls with her German soulmate— someone named Ezra who is currently training in Berlin. They'd enlisted together, Rita explains.

And then there are Hana and Aleksandra. Aleks, who says, says she hasn't met her soulmate yet when Hakim asks. When all eyes then turn to her, Hana just shakes her head, wrist burning like a torch.

They don't press her. The weight on Hana's chest feels slightly less devastating.

Of course, there are the nights were she lays in bed, clutching at her burning soulmate mark, and for brief moments can envision herself in her soulmate's nice, tidy apartment, seeing to through the stranger's eyes. Sometimes, she is laying in bed with the lights off. Sometimes, she is curled up in an armchair reading a book with words she cannot discern.

It's good to know her soulmate is safe out there, but Hana fears for the day where she will glimpse that apartment and someone else will be there in her stead.

 

 

Training in Cairo is vigorous. Captain Amari has no mercy and high expectations, her hawklike gaze as watchful as it is kind. She never pushes her cadets beyond their physical limits, but she strains that boundary as much as she can until the day comes to an end.

The meals are simple, the mess tent loud and rowdy at any time of the day, filled to the brim with young soldiers that have not yet laid eyes on the battlefield, but it reminds Hana of home.

In the heat, Aleks excels. In the heat, Hana perseveres. She's grown used to the smell of sweat and sand. At this point, anything else would be foreign. Hana's grown so used to pulling the trigger now that she holds everything she does like a weapon.

Cairo is hot, dry, and loud, but Hana finds strength in the barrenness of it. She learns how to grit her teeth and push through the sand, even when all she wants to do is fall into bed and sleep a few hours. She learns how to break an arm in two seconds by using only her the pivots of her body and physics. She learns how to fight through pain that threatens to empty her stomach and _win._

In the mornings, she runs laps around the complex. She smarts her fists when she and Aleks spar after lunch, and she learns to laugh and give a little with her new squadmates in the twilight.

Hana knows what's coming— war. It's inevitable. The terrorist group, Talon, is spreading across the globe like a parasite.

But she does not fight on the battlefield, not yet. She may be learning but she is still a far cry from a soldier.

 

 

One particular sparring match hospitalizes both her and Aleksandra. The notorious Cairo base's doctor, Angela Ziegler— a woman in a long white coat with blonde, undercut hair tied back in a ponytail— chastises them both for their roughness.

As the doctor tends to Hana's split lip, Hana catches a glimpse of the doctor's soulmate mark beneath her sleeve— _"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"_

It doesn't take her long to connect the dots. She snorts, her burst laughter disrupting Dr. Ziegler's work, and when Aleks leans over to read the black letters as well, her snigger is equally boisterous.

The doctor rolls her eyes and flushes pink, but a small smile replaces the shrewd frown on her face.

"I'll have you know that Fareeha is quite charmer past the bad puns and pick-up lines, thank you very much. Now, quiet, both of you. You are disrupting your dressings."

 

 

Nine weeks pass quickly. Ikram and Danny are being moved farther north to Alexandria, both having decided to pursue the Air Force. Lily, Ren, and the twins being stationed in Damietta. Werner leaves for Romania in the morning. Hana, Aleks, and Rita (and Ezra, the Hungarian says with an elated grin) are being transferred to a base in Chongqing, China.

They say their goodbyes with wet eyes and tight embraces, but they know they are all fighting for a worthy cause, and it numbs the hurt a little. Not a lot, but enough.

 

 

The flight to Chongqing is long, but Rita tells them all about Ezra to pass the time. Hana learns several things in the nine hours they fly:

One, Ezra has no gender. They are a non-binary person and proud of it.

Two, Ezra has a habit of forgetting that Rita is, in fact, their soulmate, and that they really do live together in a small apartment in Budapest. This habit has led to some simultaneously awkward and hilarious scenarios, if what Rita says is true. She recounts several tales with a certain fond wistfulness in her gaze.

Three, Ezra is a phenomenal cook, but can't bake to save their life. They can make a perfectly cooked foie gras platter in two minutes. Hand them a canister of cookie dough? You'll have an imploded oven in thirty seconds or less. The way Rita says it, it sounds like she speaks from experience.

Four, the two of them met when Ezra was teasing Rita's best friend in elementary school, so she punched them in the face and gave them a broken nose. Their first words to her were, as she shows, "That's kind of hot."

Hana thinks they sound like a riot. Jealousy settles in her stomach against her will, and her brain wonders if she could have had that sort of relationship with the stranger at the airport, had she stayed.

(That's a thought for another time, something for her to stew over for three hours after the conversation dies.)

For a while longer, Aleks talks about what she hopes to find in a soulmate. She says she wants a female, and though appearance isn't one of her big concerns, she'd appreciate someone with soft, honest eyes. Soft hair. Soft. Soft. It's a repeating word, Hana notes, and she has to agree. Someone soft would compliment her friend well, with all her hard edges but her tame, gentle center.

Hana briefly talks about her meeting with her soulmate in the airport, but only because she wants it out of her system. Aleks and Rita listen and don't ask for anything more when she's done.

The conversation trickles away after that, and they each return to their own things. Rita, back to the book she had brought. Aleks, back to browsing on her phone. Hana stares out the window and seethes.

Would her soulmate have been soft had she stayed? Would they have been rough? Would they have pushed her into the bed some nights and made her feel just so? Would it have been a cold and faraway relationship, like that of her parents? Would it have been a relationship reliant on heat and sweat and pounding hearts and nothing more?

The problem with Hana is that she doesn't know what she wants. She's had a taste of the unknown and it nags and gnaws and tries to worm itself into everything it can. Would her soulmate like this? Would her soulmate agree with her on that? Her anger boils and boils and it's only a matter of time, and Hana knows she brought this on herself but she's too proud to admit to anything.

For the rest of the ride, her mark resonates with a sharp, unrelenting pain. Hana wonders if her soulmate can feel it, too.

 

 

Chongqing's base is larger than Cairo. It's sleeker, more modern, with more advanced technology than Hana is readily used to. Aleks calls it 'posh' and Hana snorts, trying to repress her laughter as the crowd moves inside.

Rita introduces them to Ezra in the barracks. Ezra is tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, with short blonde hair and auburn eyes glinting with humor. Their voice is heavily accented, rough in timbre but smooth in phrasing. Hana takes a liking to them quickly, Aleks almost instantaneously.

And yet, still, Hana stews in her own bitter frustration. She hates herself for the way she can't stand seeing Ezra and Rita together. She can't stand the familiar way in which they interact, the light jests and warm banter they share, the way they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. They always seem to know what the other is thinking, know every crime and quirk about the other. Hell, they even finish each other's sentences, which is something taken right out of a Disney movie, Hana's sure.

She knows she should be glad for them, but all she can think is _that could have been me._

 

 

When the time comes to begin the counterattack against Talon, Hana is put on a small section of soldiers. It's just her, Aleks, Ezra, five older troopers, and a corporal to lead them. Rita is assigned to a separate squad, one that isn't participating in this particular mission, but she wishes them all luck and bids them a safe return.

Hana feels heavy under the weight of her bulletproof vest and all her gear as her team is flown out of Chonqing. Sweat rolls and rolls down her face like rain, and her stomach is roiling with anxiety.

Operation: Counterstrike is a go.

They exit the dropship in Shanghai, where Talon oppression is prominent. As soon as Hana's boots crunch against fragmented concrete, the air is lit up with bullets. _Out of the pan and into the fire,_ she thinks somewhat bitterly as she holsters her assault rifle. _Just like 16-Bit Hero._

 

 

Shanghai is a long battle. Hana's hands are privately shaking by the time it ends, but she's victorious at the end of the day and that's all that matters. The soldiers who live long enough to return to Chongqing in good health head into town to celebrate, Hana, Aleks, Ezra, and Rita among them, pilfering their way into a cheap bar and drinking until they can no longer see straight.

Hana's head is buzzing, and she doesn't know how many shots she's knocked back but she knows it is enough for her to regret it in the morning. Her body vibrates with the base of the loud music, the beat rattling against her ribs. Her vision is swimming with bright purples and blues of fluorescent flooring. She is slumped down at a corner table, her brain and throat on fire, but relishing in the day's victory like everyone else.

Aleks sits down next to her some time later, a small, well-rounded woman attached to her at the arm, grinning brightly.

"I found her!" The Russian roars over the din. "My soulmate! Isn't she beautiful? We bumped into each other on the dance floor!"

Hana gives the brightly blushing woman an appreciative once-over, resting her cheek on her hand and grinning as slyly as she can whilst completely wasted.

"If you want Aleks," she slurs, eyes flashing lilac, "you'll have to pass _all_ my tests. I'm taking this..." She trails off, trying to formulate something clever to say but ultimately unable to with the drunken haze over her mind. "... _very_ seriously."

Aleks laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders to bring her close, and up close Hana can see the genuine bliss and sheer relief bright on her friend's face, and she concedes. The universe can win this one.

And Hana's mark aches with loss and okay, yeah, Hana regrets holding her tongue in he airport more than she'd like to admit.

 _Sorry, soulmate,_ she thinks, cradling her throbbing wrist in her hand. _I'll find you, someday, and apologize to you properly. Promise._

Maybe there will be someone better. But Hana takes another look at Aleks and the small, soft-looking woman tucked against her side, and thinks that, maybe, for her soulmate, she's the best they'll get.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Satya likes to think that she is well-endowed. She has a steady job as a physical therapist for Vishkar Therapeutics that she finds she rather enjoys. She has a nice apartment downtown with large windows and a steam shower, and a pet cat she fondly named Tchaikovsky. Her salary is stable, and she regularly alternates between making herself dinner and going out into town to eat.

Of course, it has always been a lonely lifestyle, but she has ever only heard good things about her soulmate mark. She can only hope these wishful rumors are true. She dislikes interacting with others when she doesn't have to, but she tries, at least, to be polite, just in case.

Even if the words inked on her wrist are, _"You can't be serious."_

There are a whole number of situations she can think of that could potentially lead to such a situation in which her soulmate would be in disbelief upon their first encounter. Perhaps they are disappointed in her, in who their soulmate turned out to be. Perhaps they are simply too overwhelmed by the confrontation. Her mark is too vague for her to come up with any situation that feels right.

She has no idea what her potential soulmate could possibly be like, but she trusts that time will guide her to the answers she seeks. Time has always been on her side, it seems.

She places her dishes in the sink and pets Tchaikovsky goodbye. She has to fly out of town for a few days on behalf of a particularly stubborn patient with horrible back problems. Her flight leaves in several hours— the airport is a fair distance away, and it never hurts to be early.

Satya grabs her suitcase and wraps her scarf around her neck, waving goodbye to her cat one last time before locking the door behind her.

The late evening breeze is chilly as she briskly walks to her car, but her soulmate mark feels strangely warm. For now, she brushes it off. She has more pressing concerns to attend to.

The drive is long and filled with silence. The airport is longer and even more quiet when she arrives, just ahead of several crowds. She has ten minutes before her flight leaves, but it wouldn't hurt to traverse over to her station, anyways. _A5,_ she recalls distinctly.

She arrives just as the line is beginning to form, and she steps in quietly, melding easily with the crowd. She's a first class passenger, as if she would be anything less, in line behind several businessmen all dolled up in dark suits, but the plane is currently boarding the disabled passengers and young children.

There is some commotion farther down the line, Satya watches two younger women in army garb push their way through the crowd, walking as if they have a destination in mind and little time to spare. The shorter of the two drops something as she bumps into the businessmen a few people ahead, but clearly doesn't notice, and keeps walking.

Her brain tells her it isn't worth it, but her heart goads her on, so Satya picks up the dropped item— the stranger's phone— and hurries to catch up with her, tapping her twice on the shoulder, watching the shorter woman whirl, eyes narrowed in suspicion, her chestnut gaze raw and tired.

Satya tries to put on as amiable a front as she can. "You dropped this," she explains softly, offering the stranger back their fallen phone.

The shorter woman stares at her for a long moment, mouth partially open, and Satya feels awkward standing there when her flight is loading up to leave but she came here with a mission and she'll see it through to the end.

Abruptly, the stranger's jaw snaps shut, and she swipes her phone back and forces a strained smile, nodding appreciatively before hurrying away.

Satya watches her go with brows knit in confusion. Her mark still burns, and Satya prides herself on being a rather intelligent person, so already she is starting to connect the dots.

That was her, wasn't it? Why hadn't she said anything back? She hadn't recoiled in disgust, and she certainly hadn't been very shocked. Now that Satya thinks about it, there had been something very akin to fear glimmering in the shorter woman's gaze before she turned away.

Satya shuffles back into line reluctantly. Her mark burns with renewed vigor, but she elects to ignore it.

She needs some time to process this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The missions get grittier. Talon is harsh and unforgiving in combat, showing the kind of ruthlessness where if you slip up even once then it's all over, and it's often than Hana trudges into the barracks covered head to toe in dirt and bruises.

All things considered, at least she's still alive. The ultimate goal of eradicating Talon is slow, but they _are_ making progress, or so Hana has heard.

Captain Amari and Doctor Ziegler join them in Chongqing once things have settled down in Egypt. Hana is glad to see familiar faces in the chain of command, because things in China are just starting to get gnarly. The firefights are growing shorter and more violent. Deaths are starting to stack. It's nerve-racking.

Hana can count the number of people she has killed on one hand, but it feels like so much more, because these are human lives she's taking. It's just humans versus humans, humans with families and friends who will miss them when they're gone, but she supposes that's just what war does to someone.

Her squad changes regularly. Her, Aleks, and Ezra are constants, but the rest come and go. They Skype with Emily and Lena whenever they have the time (which isn't often thanks to time zones, but Hana can at least say they try). She's met so many new faces and watched them meet their fate. She grows used to collecting dog tags, but only because she has to. It makes what she does feel somewhat more moral.

Captain Amari is largely helpful in turning the tables against Talon in Shanghai. Doctor Ziegler is also a comforting presence, because she is basically a legend in the medical field.

The battles they win begin to outnumber the battles they lose, but the number of lives they spend per mission is steadily increasing. All the same, Hana is confident that everything will be all right in the end. She, Aleks, and Ezra are moved onto a larger company of soldiers, led by Captain Amari. Hana's nineteen, now. Two more years of service, and then she can go home. She won't die until then.

 

Maybe the universe isn't done with her yet. Maybe the airport incident was just a taste of all that could go wrong. Hana isn't sure, but that's hardly relevant.

 

Everything goes wrong in Baotou. The city whose mines run deeper than the scars Hana has collected over the years. Captain Amari's company unknowingly walks right into an ambush. Hana and Aleks, young and superstitious, agree that it's far too quiet as soon as they enter the city, but they are only soldiers and thus must follow orders.

Hana walks just to Captain Amari's left, gun holstered in her arms, helmet strapped tight around her chin. Around her neck, alongside the set of dog tags she now bears, is the small bunny charm Lena sent her last winter. It's cold and presses against her chest uncomfortably in her tenseness.

Sunlight glints in her eyes. It can't be far past noon. She wonders what time it is where Lena is— time zones always escaped her. That was Ren's specialty, in the nine weeks they had been together.

Light flares in her eyes, and she raises a hand to block it— it's the sun again. After a moment, it's back, and Hana is agitated, and quickly seeks the source. It's coming from one of the abandoned city's taller buildings, just ahead. The window is open, so Hana doesn't know how—

It hits her with all the force of a wrecking ball. She doesn't know much about math, or physics, but judging on the sniper's position, and the angle of the sun, Hana can safely assume the direction the bullet will head.

Fear threatens to immobilize her, but the adrenaline is stronger.

 _"Sniper, get down!"_ she roars, shouldering Captain Amari out of the way just as a gunshot echoes throughout the barren streets.

As soon as the bullet strikes her skin, Hana's leg goes numb and limp. The round— long, wide, designed to kill— hits the ground on the concrete behind her with a bang, leaving a gaping hole in her leg in its wake. For a moment, in the heartbeat it takes for the bullet to leave the sniper's rifle and smash into the ground behind her, everything is cold and still.

And then it hits her again, harder, as her leg gives out and she crumples, catching the shock drawing Captain Amari's mouth agape. She catches the fear and outrage twisting Aleks' expression before her gaze is met with cold dirt and asphalt.

Suddenly, the world is moving again, all blazing heat and soldiers yelling around her, bullets streaking through the air.

The pain ripples through her, her chest convulsing as it steals the breath from her lungs, and she lets out a scream of agony because there's a bloody funnel pierced through her leg, and the red in her vision, that's all hers, isn't it?

There are gunshots, people falling left and right beside her, and she's vaguely aware of the tears jetting down her face but all she can focus on is Aleks, on the large, shaking hands pressing against her wound, quiet words tumbling from her friend's lips that Hana cannot hear over the noise.

She can hear Captain Amari barking orders over the deafening chaos. People are dying— they are horrendously outnumbered. She can see Ezra in the distance, their gun raised towards the sky, face pallid, lips tightly drawn.

The hands at her thigh are roughly ripped away, her hair grabbed and dragged upwards. All Hana can see is a blurred black mask over the pain. She can hear Aleks screaming to be let go, yelling Hana's name with a certain tone of desperation.

The man in the mask growls something and clicks his tongue. Hana's vision is going dark, and she doesn't fight the exhaustion when it consumes her. A gag is tied around the back of her head, and as soon as she inhales, she's out like a light.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Satya startles herself awake in a cold sweat, the hotel bed's sheets tussled in her fitful sleep. Her mark is burning fiercely, and she dashes to the bathroom and sticks it under the running faucet to help it cool.

 _What was that all about?_ she wonders, rubbing at her leg with her free hand where she feels a deep, phantom ache beginning to fester. _Soulmate, wherever you are, please don't be doing anything questionable._

Hesitantly, she tugs down her sweatpants to reveal a horrible black and blue bruise that Satya certainly doesn't remember being there before she woke.

She frowns. Her soulmate, whom she is now certain must be the young woman she met in the airport, must have done something to deeply cause herself harm, so much that it transcended the soulmate bond and tried to split the pain between the two.

There's not much she can do in this situation other than ice the wound and hope that it eases her soulmate's pain, and pray for the younger woman's sake that she makes it out alive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hana wakes in a small, dark room that smells like blood and smoke. Her wound is throbbing, the pain arcing down her leg and up to her jaw. She wonders how much blood she has lost, if the heavy feeling in her head and the way the world spins is anything to go by.

"Song?" A voice hisses in the darkness. "Song, are you awake?"

It's Captain Amari.

It takes Hana a moment to find her voice. "Yes, ma'am," she croaks, a breathy rasp that hardly makes it past her lips.

The captain exhales. "Thank God," she murmurs. "You, Zaryanova, Nguyen, Abdullah, Messner and I are the only survivors I know of. I know there are several others, but by the way the guards have been talking, I doubt they're still alive."

"Where's Aleks?" Hana whispers, unable to will herself any louder. "Where are we?"

"We're in the Talon camp they set up a few miles out from Baotou, I think. Zaryanova is in a different cell with Nguyen and Abdullah."

"Ezra— what—"

"The guards took Messner several hours ago. I can only assume that they are being interrogated, too." The captain's gaze falls, Hana can see as her eyes adjust to the darkness. Her lip is split in several places, and there's a bruise swelling one of her eyes. "We can only hope that they live."

Hana notes that her head is resting on the captain's lap, and she moves to sit up before a steady hand pushes her back down.

"Don't," the captain warns. "Your leg. It's bad. I wasn't sure if you would make it through the night."

Hana huffs, and can taste blood and dirt in her teeth. "It will take more than a bullet to kill me," she grunts, but she doesn't protest further.

Captain Amari smiles, and it's weary. "I'm glad."

 

 

They sit for hours, maybe days. She can't tell from the darkness of the cell. Hana fades in and out of consciousness, and can often times feel Captain Amari's fingers carding through her hair. It's dark and it's cold and Hana's body shakes with an oncoming sickness. Her wound is infected— she can feel it in the way it burns with every heartbeat.

Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she can see her soulmate's apartment again. Sometimes, she tries to call out to this stranger, tries to apologize just in case she doesn't make it out alive. She knows it won't work. She knows, but trying eases the pain of being unable to do anything.

The door's rusted gears creak and open, a pillar of light peeling into the room as Ezra is roughly shoved inside, stumbling for several moments before slumping to the ground. Their hair is matted red, and they have dried blood caked on their face. One of their eyes is sewn shut by raw scar tissue.

"Grab the one with the botched leg," a deep, gravelly voice orders. "One of them will have the answers we need."

Hana is yanked up to her feet without warning, and cries out when unwarranted pressure is applied harshly to her raw wound.

Captain Amari protests briefly, calling out her name and struggling against the guards that hold her back, but Hana hears a yelp and a heavy thud before she's dragged out of the room. Her vision is filled with white dots, and her leg is all that she can feel. She hardly keeps track of the hallways and armed soldiers she passes in a myriad of black and golden light.

It's a shame, really, that this is how it ends, she thinks. She never even got to say goodbye.

 

 

The interrogation passes in a feverish blur of pain, claws, and blood. She knows they've drugged her, somehow, but she's too tired to comprehend it in full. Her throat is dry, her eyes raw and stinging, and she feels like she'll be sick if they give her another dose.

A cold, clawed finger digs into her wound, and she screams and screams until her vocal chords give out. She can't remember if she gives the Talon interrogator the answers they seek, but the pain doesn't stop, so she can safely assume she hasn't. Not yet, at least.

But she knows that if she had the answers, she would give them without hesitation. She just wants it to end. Her throat is torn from sobs, her vocal chords abused past use. She's so tired, but they won't let her sleep. They give her little to drink and nothing to eat. They dump ice down her shirt when she closes her eyes. And the claws and blades in her leg keep twisting and turning.

They cut into her leg relentlessly, cut deep to the bone and reopen every vein that had previously tried to stitch itself together. The blood loss will kill her, surely, if this keeps up much longer. She hopes so— she can't take much more of this.

The pain clouds her head. These people are trained in the ways of torture. She can no longer understand what she's saying— garbled, desperate nonsense and she just wants it to _end_.

"Where is Jack Morisson?" the gravelly voice of the interrogator snarls yet again, not quite done with her, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to meet his masked gaze. "Where is he?!"

"I-I don't—" Hana sobs, broken, agony lacing every word as the shard of metal they've imbedded in her leg twists sharply. "Gh— I d-don't _know!"_

The man grabs her by the chin.

"Yes, you do. Just tell me, and the pain will stop. It's simple, sweetheart. Where is Jack Morrison?"

If she knew, she would tell him. But she doesn't, so the pain doesn't end.

Hana chokes on her voice. "I-I don't know," she rasps, "I-I don't k-know who he is." She sucks in a breath when the knife twists again. "I don't k-know! I swear!"

"Sir," one of the guards in the small room murmurs. "None of these people have given us the information we need. We've tried everything. They don't know anything about Jack Morrison."

The interrogator scoffs and releases her, and the blade digging into her wound leaves with a sharp spike of pain, but it's over now. It's over, and the thought brings more relief to Hana than anything. She vaguely feels someone tying a shoddy tourniquet around the gaping, furiously bleeding hole in her leg.

"Take them to the firing squads," the interrogator growls. "They're useless to us now."

Hana doesn't go back to her cell. Rather, she is taken up several long flights of stairs and up into the glaring sunlight. A day or two must have passed since they were captured, then. After days of darkness, the light in blinding.

She's lined up on her knees against a crumbled brick wall. Aleks is shoved down beside her, Captain Amari on her other side. The other soldiers are lined up down the length of the wall, each one equally bloodied and tattered as the next.

Hana watches the Talon operatives line up before her, and stares down the barrel of her gun with cold eyes hot with agony. She can't feel her leg anymore. She's about to pass out again. Maybe the blood loss will get her before the bullets do.

 _Sorry, soulmate,_ she thinks with a bitter smile. _I never got to meet you properly. I hope you can forgive me, someday._

_"Ready!"_

Hana glances at Aleks and forces a smile. "I'm glad I got to know you, Aleks," she admits quietly. "Thanks for always being there for me."

Aleks nods and smiles dryly back, tears welling in her chartreuse eyes. "For you, Hana? Always."

_"Aim!"_

Hana pitches forward, darkness enveloping her quickly, and she finds that the only thing she regrets are the words she never had the chance to say.

 

 

Hana wakes in a hospital bed, a terrible pain rousing her into consciousness. Her body is dappled with gauze, and there's a familiar body slumped in the chair next to her bed, large and topped with short pink hair. Aleks has a gauze patch taking up half her face that certainly wasn't there before.

Doctor Ziegler pushes through the doorway. "I see you are awake, Lieutenant Song."

Hana grunts in response. It's all she can manage over her tightly clenched teeth. Moving is painful.

The doctor smiles sympathetically and moves to stand at the foot of the bed so that Hana doesn't have to crane her neck.

"Would you like to know the situation?" she asks carefully.

Hana barely manages a small nod.

"Mission report from Captain Amari: Reinforcements arrived just before the firing squad took you all out. You and Private Messner were in critical condition when the rescue team arrived, both unconscious and bleeding out. You are familiar with Private Juhász?"

Rita Juhász. Hana nods again.

"Her team was the one that hauled you out of there. They did what they could before they got you back to Chongqing. I was your operator— and I apologize to say, but your leg was injured beyond my repair. Private Messner's eye was unsalvageable as well. They, too, are currently in recovery."

The doctor purses her lips before continuing. "You, Zaryanova, Messner, Nguyen, and Juhász are all being discharged. The army thanks you for your service. You received several awards during unconsciousness, though I suppose you can read more about those later. You were also promoted to Lieutenant— congratulations."

Hana's fingers twitch, itching to fight back, but her leg smarts with pain, and she grinds her teeth. She hardly cares about the awards and the promotion. But her leg? Unsalvageable? She's scared to find out what the doctor means by that.

However, there are more pressing matters.

"Where are we?" she manages. Her throat is terribly dry.

"A hospital in Chongqing city. I did what I could at the camp, but a military base is not the ideal recovery location," Doctor Ziegler explains.

Hana understands, but she's tired and sore and she just wants to go home.

Doctor Ziegler lingers for a moment longer, and she realizes she must have spoken her thoughts aloud.

"Don't worry," the blonde says. "I've scheduled several months worth of appointments with a physical therapist close to your stated place of residency. She's very good, from what I've heard. Fareeha recommended her personally."

Hana nods. She kind of feels like crying, and she isn't comfortable doing so in front of this doctor she hardly knows.

"Is that all?" she croaks.

Doctor Ziegler nods. "I'll leave you to yourself, for now. Your flight back home leaves in two weeks." A pause. "Do take care, Lieutenant Song."

The door closes. The dam breaks. Hana cries until Aleks rouses some hours later, and then they cry together.

They cry because it's over. They cry because it hurts. They cry because they're going home, and Hana's never felt more alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The pain in Satya's leg fades. However, a deeper ache has settled in the pit of her chest, and she knows it is not her own. She wishes there were something— anything— more she could do. In terms of treating physical pain, she is a professional. Emotional pain, however, is foreign, and she decides rather quickly that it is something she would rather avoid.

How desperately she wishes to console her soulmate, to ease this pain of theirs, but she knows not where they are nor why they hurt so much, and she is lost and confused but she wishes and hopes for their sake, anyways.

Every day, she makes herself breakfast, packs up her briefcase and wraps her favorite pale blue scarf around her neck, pets Tchaikovsky goodbye, and leaves for work. There are some days where the hurt is bearable. Other days, it feels as if she might suffocate from the burn.

 _"You can't be serious,"_ the ink says. Sometimes, she likes to hypothesize about the voice. She hears it read to her in various tones at night, voices her head engenders to sate her curiosity.

There are times where the voice is low, smooth, and velvety. There are times where it is hoarse and abused, but also warm. There are times where it is soft and feminine, or hard and sharp like knives in her ears.

All she can do is imagine. The only thing she has to work with is a vague memory of a face and the sentence etched into her skin, engrained in her memory.

 _I wonder where they are,_ she ponders, unlocking her car where it rests in the complex's parking garage. A soldier, it seems. They could be anywhere.

She is fortunate, she supposed, that they at least aren't dead. Not if the pain wrapped around her heart is anything to go by.

"Someday," she sighs whilst starting her car. "Someday, I will meet you again." It isn't easy to convince herself, but Sanjay (whom she has long confided in) is in high spirits about the predicament. She doesn't share his enthusiasm, but she tries.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later, Hana, Aleks, and Mei-Ling (Aleks' soulmate's name, her friend explains) are boarding the long flight back home. Mei-Ling made arrangements with the military after hearing of the Baotou disaster, and there is a prepared home waiting for her and Aleks when they get there.

On the flight back, amid a drowsiness derived from painkillers and sleep medication, Hana learns that Mei is three years older than Aleks, is studying for a degree in biology that she will finish online, and that she has an old roomba she bought in a garage sale named Snowball.

Aleks loves her, Hana can tell. It's strange, watching these two former strangers interact as if they'd known each other their whole lives, but it makes Hana's situation feel slightly more conducive.

There are possibilities beyond frigidity and fear. It gives her hope for when she finds her soulmate again.

That is, _if_ she ever finds her soulmate again.

 

 

Home for Aleks is a small house on the outskirts of town to share with Mei-Ling. It is a nice house, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a fresh baby blue paint job; a full kitchen and bar and fuchsia duvets on every bed.

Home for Hana is Lena and Emily's new apartment downtown, with two bedrooms and a flight of stairs that takes Hana thirty minutes to straggle up with her dud leg. Home for Hana is a pair of crutches and crushing hugs that last for hours when Emily opens the door and meets her weary gaze.

Oh, how she's missed this. She's missed these two lovebirds. They've grown in two years.

When Hana is ushered inside, feeling safe and warm for the first time in years, Lena's adoptive father is hunched over the stove cooking something heavenly. His immense frame, rectangular glasses, and shaggy black hair are familiar in a way that Hana has rarely seen. Winston never visits much, she knows— she must be lucky to catch him while he's around.

Winston turns to greet her, smiling as his aged eyes crinkle kindly. "Welcome home, Hana. I'm cooking up some spaghetti. Would you like any?"

Spaghetti sounds like the best thing since sliced bread, and _much_ better than any of the flavors of army rations Hana had to choke down, so of course she accepts.

 

 

Home is a hard place to find, and Hana still feels like something is missing in her life and she knows what it is but she's too proud to confront it.

Home has always been a vague concept for Hana, but this is close enough.

 

Her first therapy session is today. Hana dresses herself somewhat nicely, albeit with some difficulty due to her leg that she has recently realized isn't going to heal any more than it already has. Winston drives her to the tall, modern building, and Hana immediately wishes she dressed fancier because Vishkar Therapeutics is beyond the track pants and slightly oversized white sweater she chose to wear.

Winston helps her to the front office, and he kindly helps her figure out where she needs to go before bidding her farewell. One of the Vishkar desk assistants offers to help her to the elevator— her therapist is on the sixth floor, and with her crutches the trip must seem like an arduous feat— but Hana declines, proud and stubborn, and hobbles to the elevator by herself just to prove them wrong.

Her metal crutches will take some getting used to, she supposes, and the thought does not excite her. She's always been an independent soul. That's what her physical therapist is for, right? To help her, quite literally, get back on her feet.

As if on cue, her leg starts to ache again. Hana swears loudly in the silence the elevator offers, because she hates feeling this weak, she _hates_ it, but Captain Amari is alive today because of her sacrifice. That last thought shuts her up fairly quickly. She doesn't want to think about Baotou.

She briefly glimpses what looks like an office. Perhaps her soulmate is an accountant of some sort— Hana doesn't think too much of it. This day is too busy for her to worry about her soulmate.

The elevator dings when she reaches floor six. Hana peels herself from the wall reluctantly and limps into the hallway. There's another desk there waiting for her with an equally prim assistant sitting behind it.

"Can I help you?" he asks before she even makes it across the room.

"Um, yeah," Hana stutters clumsily. "I'm looking for—" she removes the crumpled form of agreement from her left hand "—Satya Vaswani?"

The assistant nods. "Room 604. To your right."

Hana mutters a thanks and shuffles along down the hallway. She hadn't realized how unaccustomed she was to her crutches until now, where they are the only things keeping her from falling over.

And there it is. Room 604. She doesn't recognize it then, not when her mind is on other things, but her mark is burning again.

She knocks. Her heart is beating fast with anxiety. She wants to get better, she really does. She just hopes this therapist actually helps.

"Come in," a soft voice calls from within, sounding strangely familiar. Hana shrugs the familiarity off, though, and shoulders open the door.

As soon as her gaze meets that of her therapist, her jaw drops, one her crutches slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor.

"You can't be serious."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever stop using overused cliche's and AUs?
> 
> No. I'm just gonna make them angsty and we'll call it good.
> 
> Anyways, hope have a good weekend guys.
> 
> \- Ace.


	2. every time i think of home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, featuring:  
> \- the hyperanalytical musings of an asexual  
> \- angst(?)  
> \- garbage romance bc i swear i was not meant to write fluff
> 
> This chapter was originally meant to be posted on Valentine's Day but life is full of disappointments and so am I.
> 
> Enjoy.

Satya's eyes widen, her hands flitting to where her soulmate mark rests beneath her sleeve. No doubt, this is the same young soldier she had met in the airport all those years ago. The one that had gawked at her in blatant fear and with such resignation that it had sent her head spinning. The one who now gapes at her with nothing but a guarded sort of terror.

They stare at each other for a few long, awkward moments before Satya decides to break the ice.

"This is not what I was expecting when I came to work today," she says, caution light in her voice, striding over to the fallen crutch and plucking it from the ground. "But I suppose it is something I can work with." She hands back the crutch and offers her soulmate a smile despite the way her stomach is tying itself into knots.

"My name is Satya Vaswani. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Her soulmate stares at her for several seconds longer, chestnut brown eyes wide in a mixture of uncertainty and disbelief. Her fingers are clenching and unclenching, and she swallows hard before speaking, as if to quell these anxious urges.

"I... um..." The shorter woman reaches as if to grab the extended crutch, and then retracts her hand abruptly. "I'm— I'm sorry."

That... isn't what Satya expects, to be honest. She tilts her head in confusion, asking a silent question.

Her soulmate pauses again. Hesitantly, she takes the crutch and fiddles with it in her hands.

"I— you— at the airport. I was scared. Of certainty. That's why I joined the army." Her voice is halting. The younger woman chuckles to herself nervously, leaning against the wall, brows somewhat knotted in pain. "It's kind of funny. I joined the army so I wouldn't have to find my soulmate, but now I'm here because of it. I mean, it's also lucky, I guess. I was, um, looking for you. Or, I was going to. I wanted to apologize in the least awkward way possible, but it looks like fate had other plans, because this is really, really awkward."

The younger woman shakes her head, expression easing somewhat as she tucks the crutch under her arm and offers her free hand for a handshake.

"The name's Hana Song, and I would _really_ like to get to know you better, don't get me wrong, but my leg is a real pain in the ass and I'm supposed to be here on strictly professional terms." Then, quieter, gaze dropping to her shoes, "I want to give this another shot, if it's not too late."

Satya shakes the proffered hand, relief flooding her, alongside a warmth that is both comforting and strange in nature.

"Of course," she responds. "I am simply glad that you are also willing to give this another chance." Satya glances at the favored leg, where it hovers off of the ground to lessen pressure, and frowns.

"However, I must agree— let us focus on the more pressing task at hand for the time being. Would you like to sit down?"

 

* * *

 

The session is long. Hana answers every question Satya asks to the best of her ability, and hands over the papers of her past medical record when they are needed. The worst part is when Satya analyses the wound, prodding it and bending it and testing its limits. Hana doesn't scream, as much as she wants to, but she does curse and clench her fists in the sofa's cushions because the pain is both sharp and refined.

After that, it's over.

They part ways with clumsy words and hesitant, hopeful smiles and a promise to meet for dinner at a nice restaurant downtown that weekend.

 

 

Hana has Winston chauffeur her over to Aleks' house after the session, because it has been several good weeks too long since the two of them have seen each other face to face.

Mei-Ling is the one who opens the door, her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. Hana notices, then, that even with her crutches, she is still taller than the small woman.

Mei-Ling smiles up at her, the corners eyes crinkling in the most delightful way. Hana is kind of jealous.

"Hana! It is good to see you again!"

Hana manages to crack a smile back, and she's sure her exhaustion shows by the way Mei-Ling's face falls in concern.

"Yeah," she responds. "You too, Mei. Do you mind if I come in?"

Mei-Ling opens the door further and helps her shuffle inside its baby blue premises.

"I'll put on some tea. Aleks should be out shortly," the smaller woman says, hurrying off to the kitchen with the light pattering of bare feet that eventually fades into nothingness.

Hana slumps down on the couch, props her bad leg up on the polished oak coffee table, and sighs wearily. These past couple of days have been taxing. She is only just starting to realize now what she can no longer do because of her leg. She can no longer swim. She can't jog around her neighborhood like she used to. She can't spar with Aleks. Hell, she can hardly walk to the shower by herself, which is nothing short of shameful.

She feels... useless. Incompetent. She's a discharged soldier with a dud leg. What can she possibly do in life from here on out? How will she get a job? What will she do in terms of residence? She doesn't have enough money for a home, and she can't stay with Lena and Emily forever. Maybe she will borrow some cash from her parents, as if they'd notice.

Hana rubs her face. She's too young to be having a midlife crisis. Sure, she's a legal adult now, but she shouldn't have to worry about residency or how she will make a living. College is free because of her services, but how will she transport herself there day to day? She has no idea if she can drive in her current state, or straggle her way onto a metro.

In terms of food, she should be fine. She can cook, had always known how. She will just have to move some things onto lower shelves, because she can't clamber up onto the counter like she used to.

"You look stressed."

Hana glances upwards, grinning wearily when she meets Aleksandra's warm green gaze.

"Really? Could've fooled me."

Aleks laughs and sweeps Hana into her arms, hoisting her smaller frame off the ground with ease.

"It is good to see you again, Hana," the taller woman rumbles, squeezing tight, but not constricting, careful of every movement.

Hana pats her back in what she hopes is an almost consoling manner. Her eyes are damp with relief— she's missed this. "You too, old friend," she croaks. "You too."

Aleks sets her down gently and sits down in the love seat across from her. The taller woman has a scar cutting across her brow Hana hadn't noticed was there before. _Must have been from Baotou,_ she thinks, lips curling downwards into a grimace. _Everyone got scars from that. At least, everyone who lived._

"So, Hana," Aleks starts, leaning forward in her seat. "How have you been? Other than your leg, of course."

 _I'm great,_ she grumbles to herself. _Just suffering from post-traumatic depression, the realization that my therapist is actually my soulmate, and the fact that I can't do anything I_ want _to do anymore because of my leg. Also, dealing with the crushing weight of an existential crisis. I'm doing fantastic, Aleks. Thanks for asking. How about you? You've got a soulmate, a house, steady income from your godmother._

_Me?_

"I'm... managing," she says, with none of the ferocity her brain had so-helpfully supplied. "It's hard to move around."

Aleks nods in understanding. "I see. However, I did not mean what I said in the physical."

Hana winces. It is a harsh blow, but it is something she needs to talk about, she knows. Now is the perfect opportunity. It's all a matter of taking it.

"The dreams are bad," she admits. "I keep feeling those damn knives in my legs. I relive interrogation in Baotou every night. That interrogator's mask keeps popping up everywhere, and I have to look twice to make sure it's not him."

She shrugs. "It's not fun. I'll live, obviously, but it won't be easy to get over."

Aleks nods. "Those people, those _monsters..._ they knew how to make someone talk. They knew what they were doing when they took us into those rooms." She taps the scar on her face. "That is how I got this. The black-masked one carved it out." The larger woman leans back. "In a broader sense, now, how are you? What has happened in your life these past few weeks?"

Hana scratches the back of her neck in an effort to distract her hands and quell the anxiety rushing to the surface. "I mean— I'm not doing great, to be honest. I'm nineteen. I'm having a midlife crisis right now. There's a lot of pressure."

Aleks nods again. There is no pity in her gaze, to Hana's relief. Only warmth; a gentle urging to keep going.

So Hana does.

"I don't know what to do, now. I've got to figure out college and residency and moving around and I'm not ready for it. High school doesn't prepare you for shit. When reality hits, it hits hard.

"I've got nowhere to go, no set direction from here on out. I always dreamt of being a soldier but I've been discharged of duty and my leg isn't healing anymore, I don't think. I don't know if there is anything I _can_ do. I've never been particularly good at anything. Video games only take you so far.

"I'm pretty much stuck in this endless loop of self-deprecation and self-pity, I guess. I can't see a future for myself. Not anymore. It's all just kind of... gray."

A tremor racks her hands, so she clenches them together in her lap. She's not going to break like this.

"I... Uh... I met my soulmate today. She's a pretty nice person. And pretty. Pretty _and_ nice. Shit." Hana laughs at her own blunders, a nervous tinge to her voice. "She's my physical therapist."

Aleks' eyebrows shoot upwards. "Really? What is her name? Did you say anything?"

The 'this time' goes unspoken, but Hana hears it all the same. She hums a noncommittal noise of confirmation.

"Yeah. Her name is Satya. Satya Vaswani. We're going out for jalfrezi on Saturday. She seems okay. Dunno how it'll all work out, though."

Aleks blinks. "Why is that?"

Hana shrugs and averts her gaze.

"I'm hardly someone who will be easy to be with. I've got a bad leg and a terrible sense of humor. And really? I don't have a pleasant personality, either. I can't even offer them _sex,_ Aleks. What's a romance story sans the juicy bits? Yeah, it's _bland._ " She rubs her temples. There's an oncoming headache, and her leg is starting to pulsate with pain. She had forgotten her painkillers in Winston's car. "I'm really just... not that interesting. I can't offer them anything."

Aleks frowns, raising a large, callused hand to rake her hair out of her face.

"Soulmates aren't based on romance, sex, or any of that, Hana. Remember what—"

"But that's what _yours_ is based on, isn't it?!" Hana snaps, effectively cutting off her friend. She's so bitter, so volatile in the aftermath of what was nothing short of hell. " _You_ have sex. _You_ have romance. And it's _perfect_?for you. Relationships are based on equivalent exchange. What you take, you need to give back. You don't understand— I have _nothing_ to offer her, Aleks."

She slumps further into the couch from where she'd risen in her rage. "I _know_ it's supposed to be a perfect system, but I have such a hard time finding something to look forward to. I don't want to let anyone down. Especially not _her._ "

Her eyes find purchase in Snowball, who scuttles across the hardwood floors with a muted buzz by her feet.

"I'm sorry for yelling. I'm just— I'm tired. I'm in pain. There's a lot to think about."

Aleks rises from her seat and gathers Hana in her arms once more. She smells like sweat and cheap perfume. It's a comforting scent.

"It will be okay," Aleks murmurs, and Hana can hear Mei-Ling enter the room, hears the rattle of teacups on tiny porcelain platters. "If it ever becomes too much, I just want you to know that you will always have a home here. Always."

And Hana deflates. To know that someone is willing to partake in her burden, to share her crushing load, is immensely comforting. Mei-Ling is lucky to have Aleks, she thinks, and offers the couple a smile.

"I know, Aleks. Thank you. Both of you."

When she closes her eyes, she's in that same spick and span apartment, peering down at a screen that glows far too bright for her to make out the details.

 _Hey, soulmate,_ she thinks. _I don't know where this is going, but maybe we'll be okay._

Hana doesn't believe that yet, not with all that is happening in her life, but she can believe that she might be able to, someday.

Hana turns to face Mei-Ling, glances down at the steaming tea cups, and let's Aleks set her back on the couch.

It smells like home. Hana is noticing a trend.

 

* * *

 

It's the Saturday evening of the date. Satya has been anticipating this day, stewing in her quiet paranoia. What will she wear? What will she say? She's never been particularly keen on social interactions, but such things are mandatory in a situation as important as this.

Over the course of the week, she has felt flashes of various emotions, feelings her soulmate must have experienced during their time apart. Just this morning, her heart picked up the pace and the butterflies in her stomach tightened in such a way that it certainly wasn't her own nerves. There had also been a moment of uncertainty, brief spikes of pain. It was only for a moment, but it was a moment that brought her much comfort, to know that she is not alone in her anxious anticipation.

She settles for a cloudy white sari interlaced with threads of gold. One of her nicer ones, while still casually formal. Tchaikovsky watches her dress with his wise blue eyes, his long tail flicking back and forth when she turns to face him.

"What do you think?" she muses aloud, though she knows he is only a cat and cannot possibly respond.

Tchaikovsky blinks, one of his ears flicking, and meows. Satya sighs, scratching the downy fur under his chin as she leaves.

There is no going back now, is there?

 

 

Satya arrives five minutes prior to the arranged time. Her stomach is twisting, and it feels as if her heart might explode. She cannot remember a time where she has ever been so nervous before.

She lingers just outside the restaurant. It is one of her favorites in the city, its bright flavors and eloquent foods reminding her distantly of home. However, this will be the first time she has ever gone with another, to share the experience with someone her life is bound to by some vague science Satya has tried and failed to understand. Nobody understands it, not really, but everyone believes in it. It makes the world a more peaceful place— people focus less on war and more on finding their predetermined other.

Until Talon. And, as Satya has seen, some people's priorities are far grander than the life of one person. Her soulmate had gone to fight in a war, choosing the world over her soulmate. Satya is a little awed— had she never met her soulmate completely, she is sure she would still be amazed by such sacrifice. Even at her own expense.

A car pulls up beside the road. The door opens, out coming first a pair of crutches, then a head, then the rest of the body until Hana Song stands just several feet away, dressed in a hoodie and the same pair of track pants. Suddenly, Satya feels far too overdressed.

"You look beautiful," she says anyways, a slip of the tongue that makes heat crawl up her neck and traps her voice in her throat. She had meant the compliment, of course, and she had certainly been thinking it— she just hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"H-Hey," Hana stutters, eyes wide, cheeks flushing as the car that brought her pulls away. "You, um. You look beautifuller...? I mean, not _fuller._ Beautiful. More beautiful? Yeah."

Satya feels heat rise to her own cheeks. "Thank you," she manages, because though the clothes are simple, the sleeves of the pastel pink hoodie pushed to the shorter woman's elbows to reveal white scars on pale forearms, she still looks very aesthetically pleasing. Her chestnut brown hair is clean and looks soft to the touch. What gets Satya, though, are the eyes— dark, almost black, but glinting mahogany in the sunlight.

The shorter woman coughs, obviously attempting to squash the furious roseate shade of her cheeks. "Well. Um. Let's go inside. I'm starving."

Satya nods and pushes open the door, because some unseen force is goading her onwards, nudging her in what she assumes to be the right direction. She cannot tell whether it is science or something more spiritual that builds the foundation of soulmates, but at the moment, all she can do is listen to this quiet voice and hope it takes her where she needs to go.

She takes them to a booth table so that Hana can rest her crutches against the side and so that they can sit across from each other, in what Satya assumes to be a more conversational position. A waitress comes by with menus— of course, Satya already knows what she is going to get, because she has been here so many times, but she glances it over anyways so that Hana doesn't feel awkward doing so alone.

The silence is still awkward. Neither of them are willing to break the ice, neither willing to be the first to give in. Satya has always been hesitant to place faith in the words curling around her wrist, and her soulmate outright didn't believe them for a while, she thinks, based on their brief interaction at the airport.

"S-So," blurts the soldier across from her suddenly, startling her effectively into attention. Hana is glaring down at the menu, her cheeks burning a brilliant red shade. "Soulmates. We're soulmates."

Satya blinks. "I— yes. Yes?"

Hana swallows hard, folding the menu and shoving it off to the side. However, she still adamantly refuses to meet Satya's gaze.

"So. That means we're stuck together for life, if we want to be. Or something. Yeah? That's how it works, right?"

Satya nods, unsure where this is going.

"Okay. So. Obviously, neither of us know each other very well. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this— I never really believed in my mark till I met you."

Hana swallows again, finally drags her gaze upwards, and Satya is stunned by the clash of determination and uncertainty she sees.

"I mean, I want this to work. I want to try, at least, for your sake, in case you really got your hopes up about this or something. B-but not just because of that! It's also because I think you're really, really attractive, and you've been super nice to me so far.

"Problem is, we don't know anything about each other except names. So, uh, I'll start, I guess?"

Satya is left dry-mouthed by the honesty, but nods again, and leans forward to show she is listening.

Hana offers her a nervous smile, clears her throat, and begins.

"My favorite is pink, but I also like blue. I used to be a soldier. My parents aren't soulmates. I like cats, coffee, and running. But I guess I can't do that last one for a while, can I?

"Generally, I try to be an upbeat person, but I have my moments of pessimism and sarcasm. People find me easy to talk to, for whatever reason. I'm asexual homoromantic and I'm thinking about majoring in engineering once I get enough money for an apartment." The shorter woman's voice is clearer at the end, a sign of her easing into a more comfortable atmosphere. It would appear that staring conversations is awkward for the shorter woman, but carrying them is natural.

Satya smiles at the thought, and takes the moment of silence to speak up. "I assume it is my turn, now?"

Hana, in response, grins, curiosity bright in her expression. Yes, this young soldier is much more comfortable now, Satya can see— she is surprised to find that she is, too.

"Please do. Only what you feel comfortable sharing, though. We've only known each other for a few hours."

Satya nods.

"Well, as you know, I am a physical therapist working for Vishkar Therapeutics. I live in an apartment downtown and have a cat named Tchaikovsky. My favorite color is pastel blue, and I enjoy jalfrezi, rain, and classical music. I can also play the piano.

"I am on the autism spectrum, and identify as asexual demiromantic. I appreciate when things are kept clean and orderly— organizing things or having them organized calms me."

"Good to know— I'll keep that in mind." Hana says. "Also, you have a cat? That's awesome. Cats are great."

Satya nods. "He is not terribly social, but he fills some of the... emptier spaces in my apartment."

Hana rubs her chin, leaning back in her seat. "I see. It's nice not to be alone, I must agree. You mentioned earlier that you were somewhere on the autism spectrum. Could you expand on that? I want to know what to watch out for so that I don't accidentally do something that sets you off or so I can help you in whatever way."

The final knots in Satya's shoulders loosen, as does her tongue, and she finds she is rather glad to expand. She has never been a particularly vocal person, but she feels as if she could talk to this smaller woman for an eternity.

 

 

Soulmates— spiritual or scientific, nobody knows. Tried? In the process. True? That remains to be seen, but the outcome is hopeful, Satya thinks.

 

* * *

 

They talk for a long while after they've eaten, too. Words come easily to Hana's lips, and the tame, velvety voice across from her reverberates in her head in the most pleasant way. The universe could take all the wins it wanted if she could just meet Satya again and again, see her golden gaze every day for the rest of her life. Hana wonders what it would be like to hold her hand, to lay in bed with her, talking about sweet nothings until the crack of dawn.

Hana doesn't care anymore if it is science or some bullshit story someone made up, because she's met Satya, now, and that's all that seems to matter. Not the fact that they're soulmates, but the fact that Hana feels safer than she ever has, more comfortable than she can remember, and _listened_ to.

But there is no love, not yet. Hana wants to wait for that. One step at a time. Friendship is at the top of her list.

"I had fun today," she admits as the conversation draws to a close, when both of them are starting to realize that all good things must come to an end. "I would like to do this again."

The woman across from her smiles— she'd been doing that a lot recently. Hana likes the way it looks.

"Me as well. Does next Saturday work with you?"

Hana nods. Seeing Satya twice a week? She can handle that.

 

 

As it turns out, her poor, poor romantic heart cannot. Neither can her leg.

On the Wednesdays, when she sees Satya and they run through exercises her leg can handle, she feels fantastic. However, by Tuesday, her leg is usually in a great deal of pain again.

Their lunch dates keep her mind off of the wound for the most part. It becomes a habit for them, to meet at lunch at a restaurant one or the other picks and talk about their respective lives. It is the best Hana has felt in weeks, but she cannot help but feel like there will be a catch, an abrupt end to this adventure. She really doesn't want to get hurt, nor does she want to be the one doing the hurting, and the sickening feeling in her chest is swelling.

She is scared of this. She does not know why.

Satya picks up on it, at some point, Hana knows, but the taller woman says nothing on the matter, and merely tries to comfort her in ways more subtle and nonverbal.

She's too good for Hana. Hana, the former soldier with a ruined leg and a bleak future. Satya, who has everything she has ever wanted and needed.

Hana should start house hunting. She borrowed some money from her parents that she's been living off of. It will probably be enough for a decent apartment, at lest. Nothing fancy, like Satya's apartment that she has so often seen, but a place to call home.

When she lets it slip one lunch date at a retro-age pizzeria, Satya offers to help. Hana wishes she could decline, but she is finding that, when dealing with Satya, it is hard to say no.

 

 

Two weeks of therapy and lunch later, they've found her a suite. It's small, in the brick-and-tin-roof district of downtown, but Hana likes it. It's on the second floor— one bedroom, a living room connected to a small kitchen, one bathroom, a small balcony, and a laundromat just downstairs. It is easy to maneuver, even with her leg. Emily, Lena Aleks, and Mei are going to help her move in within the next few days. Satya would have liked to, but she had other patients that required medical attention.

By the time they finish unpacking and setting it up, Hana is content, but the sickness grows. At least, when it's all over, she will have a place to go, she thinks, and that is all the place becomes. A safety net.

 

* * *

 

Satya meets Hana for dinner at the jalfrezi shop, their designated favorite place to eat, one night. It is a weekend, and Satya feels unsettled, for whatever reason. Well, she supposed, it's not her that is unsettled. She had grown quite skilled in identifying which feelings are her own and which are Hana's, and this heavy uncertainty certainly doesn't belong to her. She has plans to bring it up tonight, to see what she can do to help her soulmate, if anything.

When she arrives, Hana is sitting at a booth next to the window, staring at the glass with a vague expression. Satya's skin is crawling, the weight crushing against her chest. She wonders what the cause could be.

"Greetings," she says, a touch of caution to her tone.

Hana blinks and turns to look at her. She looks tired, almost strained, as if sitting here is exhausting in every aspect.

"Oh. Hey."

Satya sits down across from her. The two of them are silent for a long moment, a moment that drags on and on until Satya opens her mouth to break it.

"Hana—"

"Satya—"

They gape at each other for a second or two before laughing together, some of that heaviness easing from the air.

"You first," Satya says, before Hana can argue. The shorter woman opens her mouth to argue, closes it, and swallows hard, the smile falling from her face as her gaze immediately averts elsewhere.

 _Ah,_ Satya realizes. _It must have something to do with me._

"Satya..." her soulmate starts, and then stops, and then presses on with a strangled tone to her voice. "This... this has been fun. Really fun. I've had a great time, getting to know you and all, but... when is it gonna end?"

Satya blinks. The questions catches her off guard, and it takes her a few seconds before she recovers.

"What do you mean?" she asks, because she won't let herself jump to conclusions. She knows better than that.

Hana glances up at her and then away. It is getting dark outside.

"You know, when are you gonna walk away? That's how these things go. I mean, you'll get bored of me at some point, right? Unless you already are. I'll feel bad if you've been pretending for my sake this whole time."

Satya is bewildered. What on earth had she done to make Hana think such thoughts? She needs to fix this, quickly so.

"Do you want this to end?" she asks, as gently as she can, because there is a wild sort of fear in Hana's gaze that she doesn't want to stoke.

Her soulmate's expression crumples, and she buries her face in her hands. " _God,_ no," she croaks. "I'd do this forever if I could."

Satya frowns. "Then why—"

"Because I have nothing," Hana rasps. "I have nothing to offer. You're some goddess or something and I'm... broken." Her voice cracks on the last word, and it breaks Satya's heart.

"I accidentally fell in love with you," Hana sobs, and Satya notices then just how wet her soulmate's eyes are. "And I'm still falling. I'm begging you, Satya, end this before it's too late for me."

 _That's what this is about,_ she realizes with some sense of dread. It makes her wonder just how deeply this younger woman has been hurt before.

"Hana," she says fervently, peeling one of her soulmate's hands away from her face to meet her gaze. "I love you, too."

Hana sputters, several tears splashing on the table, face flushing in an instant. "Wha—"

Satya takes her other hand and brings it to the other side of the hand she'd pried, encompassing the smaller, colder digits in warmth.

"And that means all of you," she finishes. "Because you make me happy. I genuinely enjoy the time we have shared together, the jokes we have made, the conversations we have had. You do not know how much you have given me these past weeks. I don't know if there is anything I could to convince you of such, to convince you that I love you because of who you are, not what you are or what you have done."

Hana stares for a while longer, her expression switching from trepidation, to fear, to astonishment, to affection, and back again.

Eventually, her soulmate cracks a smile.

"How did I get stuck with someone like you?" Hana jokes, voice still a bit hoarse, but she's gripping Satya's hand so tightly it seems like she might never let go, and Satya assumes that that is a good sign.

She smiles, and would argue, but now is not the time or place to lull Hana's self-deprecation into nonexistence. Little steps— play by play. There will be a time, later, that Satya takes Hana by the hand and talks the heart of the problem out of her, dances with her on a pristine hardwood floor, and whispers her into a sleep where she's more confident of herself.

There will be a time, later, but for now, this is good enough.

 

 

"Thanks," Hana says when they stop at the corner of a street to part ways for the night. "Hey, you should come over to my place some time. I could show you around. It's not too far from here."

Satya's eyes dance with city lights. "I have no plans for tonight. Why not now?"

Hana grins, and it's a bit lopsided, the corners quirked just enough to be feral, but gentle enough to be charming. It makes Satya's heart skip a beat or two.

It starts to rain as they walk (Hana limping, slightly, Satya taking strides to match the pace) alongside the looming buildings of downtown, a light drizzle that patters over Satya's shoulders. She hadn't thought to bring an umbrella, and the only light she and Hana have to go on are the street lamps bathing the midnight black streets with amber light. At some point, Hana reaches over and hesitantly entwines a few fingers with her own.

Satya's chest bursts with warmth. She is pleasantly surprised to find that only a portion of it belongs to Hana.

So, she reaches further and curls the rest of her hand around that of her soulmate, fingers interlacing, slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

Hana's smile is like the moon, the sun, and the stars all wrapped into one, her hair damp and dripping in her eyes, and she has never looked so beautiful. Thunder rolls in the sky, the rain falling harder, and Satya is thoroughly soaked at this point.

"Hey," Hana says, at the corner of one street, pulling them both to a stop. Her eyes are dark under the shadow of the overhead street light, but Satya can see the fire within them. "I fell for you. I didn't mean to, but I did."

Satya tilts her head, another crash of thunder passing overhead. She's at a bit of a loss. "I know," she replies, hesitant.

And then Hana is leaning in, pressing her lips just to the corner of Satya's mouth. Her soulmate's lips are cold, and she can taste rain and the milk tea they'd had at the curry shop on Hana's lips.

Oh, Satya thinks. _Oh._ And her eyes flutter to a close, and she tilts her head just so, mouths moving in small, gentle movements. Hana is tentative and careful, unsure of herself but willing to take the risk, and she is as responsive a kisser as she is a conversationalist. She gives as much as she takes, and Satya can feel the imperceptible tremble in her hands as they stand together in the rain.

Her mark burns and burns and burns, and she lets it consume her.

 

* * *

 

By the time Hana drags Satya into her apartment, they're soaked to the bone, shivering and dripping with water, but they're laughing and clutching hands tightly as they kick off their shoes. Hana scurries to the bathroom to grab them both towels, and changes into a pair of her old volleyball shorts and a pink t-shirt before she joins Satya in her living room.

Satya accepts the towel graciously, and Hana is proud to find a smile on the therapist's face, born of her efforts, and she laughs again at how ridiculous this all is— the two of them, drenched through their clothes, having shared their first kiss in the middle of a thunderstorm, hair sticking to their faces and their necks, laughing like the lovestruck idiots they are.

Satya looks good likes this, she decides, and it is not the first time she has thought it but it is the first of its kind, the first in this situation, and that, she thinks, is special.

She hands her soulmate the towel— white, freshly cleaned— and limps over to her kitchen to put a kettle of water on the burner to start heating up. She has learned, over the many conversations they have shared, that Satya enjoys drinking tea before bed.

In her eyes, Hana catches a glimpse of the back of her head, of the soft smile adorning her lips. It's strange, seeing herself in someone else's eyes. There's a fluttery feeling in the pit of her gut that doesn't belong to her, but it feels right. It all feels right. Hana feels... whole. Despite everything. Despite her messed-up leg, her insecurities, her convictions and her graces.

She turns around as Satya approaches, both of them careful, equally unsure, equally curious.

"Love you," Hana says, reaching upwards and pulling the towel on Satya's neck to tug her closer, pulling her close to press her lips to Satya's. "Love you."

The storm rages on outside, rain pounding against Hana's window, thunder rolling in the sky and lightning flashing beyond the curtains, but she cannot bring herself to care.

 

 

Hana wakes with an arm draped around her waist and a searing pain in her leg and thinks, _I could get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks. Probably the only fluffy thing I'm going to write, aside from Summer Nights, for a while.
> 
> Anyways, next story is probably gonna be something from Diablo III because I got that game a few days ago and beat it yesterday and I love??? Eirena??
> 
> So yeah, I'll finish Summer Nights here in the next few weeks or so but I've gotta indulge myself here first.
> 
> See you in the next story.
> 
> \- Ace.


End file.
